I Wanna Do Bad Things with You Too
by Chocolate Boy
Summary: What's dead doesn't always stay dead and Jinx Malone is about to find out she has unfinished business left to deal with in Bon Temps. Eric/OC
1. Laissez les Bon Temps Rouler

**Yes indeed, I'm back with a sequel! Had a lot of projects I tried working on, but my desire to write Jinx, Eric, and Wycherley continued to grow until it beat out all of my urges to do anything else. So here we are. **

**Reading the first story, while it isn't imperative, will explain a lot. However, that first story is trash and the writing is really bad too so... read at your own risk. I'm embarrassed at how godawful it is. **

**But here is the abridged version for you all. **

**Jinx Malone is a pixie. **

**She was caught in a love square with Eric Northman, Sookie Stackhouse, and Michael Wycherley (another OC of mine). **

**During their love square, a war between the fairies and the pixies broke out. **

**At the war, Jinx died. **

**Sookie killed her. **

**But now she's back. **

**And this is her story.**

"**I Wanna Do Bad Things with You Too"**

**Chapter 1** – **Laissez les Bon Temps Rouler**

"Paula Deen can eat my asshole."

Lafayette spat the words with a fire that matched the sizzle of the burgers he flipped. The smoke wafting through the kitchen couldn't hide the disgust that smeared his face. With how violent and harsh his movements were, it looked like he was fighting the meal more so than cooking it. I scooted onto a counter beside him, took a drawn out sip of my Long Island Iced Tea, and watched as my cousin went clean off.

"Ol' sugar water drinkin' bitch," Lafayette quipped. He continued, not bothered by my laughter. "Ol' vienna sausage snacking hoe. Ol' FernGully smellin' trick."

It was hilarious seeing just how pressed Laffy could get over some dumb shit that ain't mean not two dead flies in the long run. What I care what some fat old hoe did with her time? Ain't affect me none.

"You done now, Laffy?" I asked. "Got it out ya system yet?"

He side-eyed me something fierce and I hushed up. Hell, maybe he couldn't let this topic go. He did used to watch her shows and bought a few of her books. I could understand his anger on that level.

He sneered, throwing a burger so burnt it looked like coal onto a stale bun slathered in mayo. How Merlottes ain't get shut down yet? I used to work here, I knew this place wasn't shit. "I hope diabetes take that hoe's leg,"

I choked down my drink and pressed my hand against my tightening chest. Pain swelled in my throat and tears stung my eyes. "Lafayette?"

He threw a handful of pickles onto the burger before drowning it in ketchup. "Think I'm playing? I hope they gotta cut that fat bitch's leg off just so I can see her use it as an ingredient in a dish. Cause you know the muhphukka ain't nothin' but some lard."

The Bon Temps heat must've been getting to him. We were on the cusp between Spring and Summer which was the worst time of the year. The weather ain't know what to with itself and don't even get me started on the fashion you'd see. "You losing it, boo. And you're sweating your face off."

"Wanna know what, I knew the bitch was foul when she came out with diabetes on Oprahs." He ain't pay no never mind to me. He was too into his rant and too busy fixing a plate to notice he was going insane. "It takes a special kind of evil to know yo ass got diabetes and still cook the same shit that got you there in the first place for millions, Jinx. The hillbilly wasn't still sittin' in her house afraid of her own shadow making Crisco Fried Fatback, naw, she was selling the heart attacks to helpless Americans. Order up!"

"Lay off Paula, Lafayette." Sam leaned over the pass, whispering his words so no one but us could hear. His brown hair ribboned with grey fell over his eyes and he gave Laffy and me disdainful glares. "I don't want y'all upsetting these customers none."

Did he really want racists eating here in the first place? Fuck them customers. They were stank and ain't tip.

"Don't tell me you agree with her, Sam," I said and the shifter quickly shook his head. Sam and I were always good friends... who casually messed around from time to time, but it wasn't nothing too major. Wasn't nothin' meaningful, it was just all in good fun.

"Of course I don't agree with her." Frantically looking from left to right, he leaned inside a bit more. "I just think it's a little unfair that she's getting slack for something she said twenty years ago, but you got people like Chris Brown, Kobe Bryant, and that one OchoCinco guy still walking around."

"You do know that naming all black people makes you a bit racist," Tara chimed in, grinning from ear to ear after saying her comment. I think she kind of had a soft spot for Sam. They bickered like two people trying to cover up their sexual attraction all the time.

She picked a fry off the plate meant for whoever was still waiting on their cancer with a side of clogged arteries, tossing it into her mouth.

"Nope. Not doing this with y'all three." Sam wagged his hand in the air. "Y'all setting me up and I ain't fixin' to step in Shit Creek without my boots." He snatched the order off the pass before storming off in a jiffy.

I pouted. "Why you go scare that man off, Tara?"

What man didn't Tara have running to the hills?

"Oh he know I was just kidding." Tara shouted over her shoulder in hopes that Sam would hear. How couldn't he? Girl's regular speaking voice was at an eight. "What y'all trynna do tonight?"

I quietly sighed, quickly trying to regain my composure so my cousins ain't suspect nothing out of the usual from me. Truth be told, I wasn't trying to do anything at all tonight. I wanted to go home, hide under my covers, blank out everything, and wish that I could've stayed six feet under.

"You already know what I'm doing." Smiling, I hoped they'd once again buy into my lies. I'd been back from the dead for a month now and had everyone thinking all was perfectly fine with me - that I was back into the swing of things. But this coming-back-from-the-dead-shit wasn't like riding a bike, I needed some time to sort my crap out. I felt like a dress from Walmart in a rack filled with Donna Karan; out of place, disgusting, and laughable. "Spending time with my vampire boo."

Yeah right. That pompous vampire wished he was my boo.

Finally, Tara took the spotlight off me. "What about you, Lala?"

"Me?" He snapped he head to the sky, faking like he was actually thinking. "I'm trynna get this bussy busted."

"Huh?" My reply came quick. "What the fuck is a bussy?"

"I ain't got time for this nasty shit. Not today." Tara dipped out like she ain't want no part in this conversation. Girl was quick too. I almost ain't catch her.

Laffy ain't care. He was already in the midst of enlightening me, because clearly I was ignorant to the matter. "Bussy can bring a grown man to his knees and have him sucking on his thumb."

I could only sneer once I figured out just what Laffy meant when he said bussy. A boy's pussy. His asshole. Is that what gay men liked to call their shitholes nowadays? You could call a piece of roadkill filet mignon for all I cared, the shit was still roadkill. A knockoff Balenciaga bag was still a goddamn knockoff.

"Can't get wet." I shrugged. "So I ain't too concerned."

"Mine do."

"Don't worry, I'm secure with my man."

Laughing, he shook his head. "You can think yo man is as straight as the Empire State Building for all I care, hooker, but after he have a taste of this bussy!" He slapped his ass. "I'll have him coming back to you the Leaning Tower of mothafuckin' Pisa."

"I hate Italy."

My body along with Lafayette's went into cardiac arrest at the sudden intrusion in the kitchen. Like a little girl clutching her teddy bear at night, I gripped Laffy's shirt. He held out his spatula like a Samurai, ready to fuck up the intruder who wasn't the least bit concerned.

"Now what exactly was your next plan of action, Lafayette?" he grinned, motioning to the spatula Laffy held. "You've piqued my interest."

Catching my breath, I hopped off the counter to address the vampire in front of us. I pulled him to a secluded corner where only canned vegetables and flour could keep us company. Hopefully we could keep our conversation private even know I knew my cousin's nosy ass would be listening in.

"What are you doing here!" I whispered.

He blinked. "You've been avoiding me."

I looked towards my sandal wedges, not knowing what he wanted me to say. Wasn't no way I could tell him that he was right, that I had been avoiding him ever since he pulled me from my grave. But just seeing him, no matter how drop-to-your-knees-sexy he may have been, only made me feel worse. It reminded me that I was a freak of nature.

"I ain't been avoiding you," I said. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then you wouldn't mind coming with me right now would you?" He knew I wanted to protest, but doing so only proved him right and I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. His ego didn't need any more pumping. "Let's go."

**. . . **

"I know what you're looking for," the vampire said. "And I can promise you, you won't find neither it nor him."

I ignored his taunts and continued to stare at the illuminated skyscrapers that made up Shreveport's skyline. The river reflected the shimmering lights of downtown nightlife and the air was tinged with a mischief that only Louisiana could bring. Between the buildings and the bridges, hidden beneath the pretty exterior the Mayor painted the city as, was supposed to be Fangtasia. My lips fell into a frown and my heartstrings were snipped as I realized I was fighting a losing battle.

Fangtasia was nothing but a vacant building up for leasing. It became one after Eric left town.

"Does he even know I'm alive?" I strummed my fingers along the marble balcony in front of me, keeping my back to the vampire who was responsible for Eric and Pam's leaving. "Have you told him?"

"Sweetheart, why would I give a damn whether he knows of your whereabouts?" Wycherley laughed and my skin crawled at the sound of his condescending chuckles. "If you miss him as much as you claim... go visit him. I'm sure he'd appreciate the company in Barrow, Alaska."

I would've chewed my lip if there weren't MAC lipstick on it. Eric wasn't worth ruining my makeup. Especially after going against his word and getting back with Sookie after I died.

He was really with Sookie Stackhouse now...

I was reliving everything I thought I'd escaped after my death. There was nothing worth coming back to.

Giving a nonchalant shrug, I held myself together. I could have five Eric Northman's if I wanted. "He's probably a popsicle now."

"Oh I doubt that. Ice Monkey's thrive in the cold." Wycherley joked. His sense of humor always catered to him. He was never actually funny. "I should've killed him, but instead did him an act of kindness and put him in his natural habitat. And here you think I'm a monster."

Leaning over the railing, I had the strangest urge to jump. There was a rush – an exhilaration that made the thought all the more desirable. It just felt like the right thing to do. Kind of like an Angel on my shoulder was trying to sway my thoughts. Christ, I was losing it. Toying with death made me feel the most alive. I closed my eyes. "Don't pretend that you ain't. I'm sure you've done bad things."

"Many. And I'll continue to until one day someone crafty enough manages to kill me." He sounded proud of himself. Hell, whatever wicked deeds he'd committed got him far. I didn't wanna know how he got to be a part of the Authority and became the spokesperson for all vampires. "But that's all betwixt and between, Jinx. I haven't done any harm to you, have I?"

I sighed and prepped myself for one of the many tit-for-tat disputes we had. "No."

"And yet you're avoiding me."

"No I'm fucking not."

"It's been three weeks since we've last spoken."

That's all it'd been? Three weeks? With his texting and random visits to my house it felt like I just saw him.

"No it hasn't."

"Yes it has."

"You came over my house three days ago."

"So you _were _home," he said, catching my lie. I'd told my parents to tell him that they hadn't seen me. To be fair, who the hell came over people's homes without calling first? That was some rude shit. "Believe it or not, I have better things to do than just you. I can be out of this ratchet city before night's end if my presence is not wanted. "

I cringed at his word choice. "Did you just say ratchet?" Because it damn sure didn't have any business coming out his mouth. He didn't look or act the part.

I continued to cling onto the railing. It was the only thing keeping me from slipping off the edge and falling to my death. Funny thing was, I didn't fear the thought of falling like most sane people would've. I actually wanted to see what would happen. Would I come back from the dead again? Would I relive all the fond memories of my life like I had when I was six feet under? Maybe I would be dead for good and actually go to a place that was heaven or hell.

"I'mma jump," I blabbed the first thought that came to my head and turned around just to see how he responded to my confession.

Wycherley's usually stoic face couldn't help but scrunch with confusion after hearing my words. He furrowed his brows and his gaze glued onto me like gum to the bottom of a Guiseppe Zanotti. He was staring at me like he ain't know who I was. Shit, we were bonded, he had to have had some kind of clue.

Tongue swiping across his lower lip quicker than a snake, he motioned me to come towards him with his fingers. "I'd much rather you come inside with me."

The winds whipped around me and all I could see was a blurry vision of black as the currents billowed my curly hair around my face.

I was gonna fucking jump. That was all there was to it.

"Answer my question first," I dared, my back meeting the balcony's edge. "If I jumped would you catch me?"

"If you jumped, would you-" His voice was swallowed by the airplane flying above us. He took a breath and recomposed himself until it was quiet enough for him to speak again. "I can see where this is heading and I'd rather not venture down that road. Come inside."

"No." I said to the Simple Simon. "Not until you answer my question."

Wycherley quickly glanced to the ground before his magnetic gaze shifted to me. "And if I refuse?"

I smiled. This was a battle of wills and he was gonna lose this one. "I'll get the answer first hand."

"What does my catching you prove," he asked, raking his hand through his hair that was slightly shorter than what I remembered. His newfound buzzcut, partnered with the stubble he allowed to settle along his jaw made him look a lot more savage. Snap necks first, ask questions later. "Will it make you sleep better at night?"

"It'll let me know I can trust you for starters."

"Trustworthiness isn't a strong-suit of mine, truth be told." He buried his hands into his black slacks as he lingered in the doorway separating the inside of his Penthouse to outside. "But what has you thinking that I'm not reliable any longer?"

"Because you let Sookie kill me."

I knew my words stung him. I could feel the venom from my viper-bite of a comment sink into him immediately after letting the insult seep out. My death and how he was unable to help me had eaten at him for all four months of my departure. He told me how undeniably sorry he was the night he pulled me from my coffin and how he'd never let me down like that again. That he wouldn't make the same mistake again. Me bringing this up was a low blow, but I was so unsure of everything around me that I couldn't help my suspicions.

"You're trying my patience, Jinx." Smiling, I knew by his threatening tone that he ain't find not a damn thing funny. His voice, usually monotone and as low and sweet as a lullaby, could now put the fear of God into an Atheist. My stomach sank at the sound of it. "You're trying my patience and now you're wasting my time."

So the way I felt wasn't worthy of his oh-so-precious time? The fact that I died, came back, and still didn't have a fucking clue how it happened just wasn't an interesting topic of discussion.

"Bye then," I snorted. "You and your stank ass time can go fuck yourself cause Jinx Malone don't need ya."

"So cruel." Patting a hand against his chest, he groaned before his lips gave way to a wicked smile. "You're breaking my heart."

"Just trying to get even. You let Sookie break mine when she stabbed me with a goddamn firepoker now didn't you?" My chest heaved as I spat the awful words. Fire charred my lungs and lava replaced the blood in my veins. The sweltering temperature ain't have shit on how hot my body became. I could've melted glaciers into steam.

Instead of me going inside, Wycherley joined me in the great outdoors. He walked my way, a barely traceable smirk playing against his soft lips as his body gradually touched mine. Ghirardelli and hot spices numbed my senses. He always smelled so inviting and sensual. Raw and powerful.

"So you don't think I'd catch you?" Wycherley whispered, caressing my face with his knuckles.

"I don't know." I used to trust him with my life. But after dying and coming back, trusting anyone with my life didn't seem very bright.

"Would you like to be caught?"

"What?"

"Are you suicidal, Jinx?"

No. At least I didn't think I was. I didn't want to kill myself or die one week into my great comeback. I was more fascinated in what would happen to me after death than actually dying. Would I come back again? Would I go back to the dream-like state I was in before? Left to only reminisce on fond memories of my past.

"Maybe."

"Then let's find out the answer to your question." Sweeping away my hair, Wycherley tilted my head up and the flesh of his lips barely grazed mine. I knotted my hands into his suit as my mind tried to figure out whether I wanted to push him away or tug his body closer. "And if I don't catch you, I'll make Eric scrub your remains off the sidewalk."

The echoes of my screams as they clawed out my throat engulfed me. Wind cradled my body and fright swallowed me whole. Nothingness slipped through my grasp even though my hands instinctively reached out to grab ahold of some form of security. There was nothing to prevent me from plunging to my death except for Wycherley. My life, for the second time, was in his hands.

Before my body could smack into the pavement, firm hands grabbed ahold of me. I was pulled into a loving and warm embrace despite the anger and rage that'd swept me away. Wycherley held onto me, his grip slowly getting tighter and tighter like I was too precious to let go of.

"Get the fuck off me." I kicked and punched and tried all I could to pry myself away from him, but he easily overpowered me. "I fucking hate you."

"Already? It's been five seconds."

I could've sworn I ain't crash into the pavement, but my heart felt like it'd exploded into a billion pieces of guck. All the air in the seemed to have packed its bags and left town after hearing that man's voice. Disbelief caused me to pry my eyes open and once I caught sight of a grey suit rather than the black ones Wycherley wore, I lost my fucking mind. I looked towards my savior and found myself awestricken like a little girl after her first kiss. Was it bad that I was staring at him like _he _were the ghost?

I barely could squeak his name and I was lucky to have even said that.

"Eric?"


	2. Boys, Boys, Boys

**So sorry it took me so long to update. This latest season of TB was shit and it fucked with my desire to write this. I also forgot how hard Eric is for me to actually write. But alas, here I am with a second chapter and I hope you enjoy it. **

**Chapter 2 - Boys, Boys, Boys**

My fingers skimmed Eric's face like someone does an old nostalgic photo. He had those kind of storybook eyes that could steal your breath away with just one glance. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and I ain't have time to cry 'cause that meant fucking up my cheeks with bleeding mascara.

The pitter-pattering of my heart made my knees a little wobbly and the way he held me close to him pretty much set me aflame.

Five months I'd been back from the dead and I hadn't felt more alive than in his arms.

I expected him to kiss me, to tell me of all the dirty things he wanted to do to me later on in the day, or to say something arrogant like Wycherley had when pulled me from my grave – but Eric just held onto me for a while. Like if he were to let go I'd be gone forever.

"Jinx Malone," he sighed my name and, child, I damn near fainted. "I-"

A godawful noise struck the air and Eric's sentence was cut short. He clenched his eyes in pain, letting me slip from his grasps and onto the floor. Staggering backwards, I muffled my scream with the palms of my hands.

The white of Eric's dress shirt was stained red with blood. The crimson blob expanded until there was nothing left to conquer. Eric reached behind his back and unflinchingly ripped out the long, black weapon that'd stabbed him just a few crucial centimeters from his heart. He held it before him and I instantly grew cold with fear at what I saw.

A firepoker.

The same thing Sookie killed me with.

Which meant that there was only one person behind the attack.

"Pity that this reconciliation didn't last very long – I know how long awaited it's been for you, Jinx," Wycherley spoke, voice barely louder than the faintest whisper. Fuck, Eric had made me forget all about him and that was a grave mistake. Ain't no forgetting someone like Wycherley – you were as good as dead if you did. "Perhaps you've forgotten what I said would happen if you returned to Bon Temps, Eric."

Eric unsheathed his fangs with a _click, _and didn't contain the vicious smirk from spreading across his face. I grabbed at his shoulder to prevent the two from fighting, but Eric out stepped my touch. He motioned for me to stay behind him and not risk getting caught in the crosshairs, but I wasn't about to let the two men I cared about the most in my life try to kill each other for the umpteenth time.

"Have I upset you?" Wycherley chuckled. The flickering of the broken streetlights he stood beneath silhouetted him and I couldn't make out his face or his emotions. Hell, Wycherley didn't have that many emotions to begin with – he was always stoic and borderline sociopathic. "I see that your fangs are out, surely you must be upset."

"Wycherley. Eric." I called, trying my hardest to intervene. I could see where this was headed and I ain't like the road that much, but dammit I ain't stand a chance trying to talk some sense into two stubborn vampires. "Y'all two don't start. Please."

"But what have you to be so indignant about?" Wycherley chastised from afar, ignoring my pleas. "Oh, surely you're not mad that I pushed Jinx off the rooftop of my penthouse. I can assure you that it was but a joke."

I ain't know which one of them started what became a vicious battle in the middle of New Orleans, but I couldn't keep up with their movements. They scrambled around in a blur, trashing the area with crumbled bricks and fallen cablewires. Where the fuck was everyone at? There were supposed to be people walking along these streets, but strangely enough it was a ghost town.

Now I knew what Wycherley was doing while Eric and I were busy having a 'moment'. He'd glamoured everyone to stay away.

"Aren't you just a tidbit curious as to why she was in my penthouse?" Blood streamed down Wycherley's, but his wild grin made me think he ain't mind it. He looked savage, beastly, with his otherwise gorgeous face streaked red. "It couldn't have been because she's living with me."

That was a lie! I stayed with him my first week back, but after that I kept away from him.

Wycherley continued his taunts. "But if Jinx has been living with me, that means today wasn't her great reawakening. In fact, she's been alive for a month."

Eric stopped mid-fight only to look at me with a far different gaze than the one he gave me when I fell into his arms. His face softened and I immediately shriveled up with guilt. He was hurt, I could fucking feel it like a second skin.

In two point five seconds, our relationship went back to the way it was before I died.

"A month you've been alive, Jinx?" Eric rasped. "You didn't even think of me?"

All I did was think of that asshole.

"You were with Sookie." That was my shitty way of apologizing. Because he ain't have no right to be mad at me if he was pulling the same shit behind my back. With my killer for crying out loud. "I ain't wanna bother you."

"Sookie?" he spat. "What-"

"Would you like me to tell you what happened her first night back?" Wycherley said, intervening in what was a much needed conversation. I eyed him and how he was in worse condition than Eric. He was losing that fight. "I found her in her grave, watched her as air filled her lungs, listened to her breathe my name in the night air."

Fear hollowing my stomach at where Wycherley was headed, I ran to his side a shoved him away from Eric. "Stop."

He ain't listen. He peered over my shoulder and stared Eric down – because he may have been three hundred years his junior, but he'd always find a way to may Eric feel infantile. "I took her home, my home of course, stripped her down, cleaned her trembling body from all the death and decay that'd been her home for four months, gave her one of my shirts, and had a nice long conversation with her. Would you like to know what happened next?"

Petrified, I turned to Eric to remedy the situation. "Don't listen to him-"

Wycherley's hand flew over my mouth, keeping me silent. I thrashed against him, but he kept me held tight against him as he dealt Eric a killing blow.

"Quiet, Jinx, you'll spoil the best part," he said. Eric couldn't even look me at me and I think that's what made everything worse. I think he already knew what was coming next. "I fucked her long and well, held her until she fell asleep, took a shower, ate some toast, and when she awoke I fucked her once more for good cheer."

"Bon Temps Police Department! Hands in the air, fangers!"

Oh lord no.


End file.
